THE RESULT.
Had it pleased Heaven
To try me with afflictions; had He rained
All kinds of sores and shames on my bare head;
Steeped me in poverty to the very lips;
Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes,
I should have found, in some part of my soul,
A drop of patience; but, alas! to make me
A fixéd figure for the hand of scorn
To point her slow, unmoving finger at!
SHAKESPEARE.
Come! Rouse thee now! I know thy mind,
And would its strength awaken!
Proud, gifted, ardent, noble, kind—
Strange thou shouldst be so shaken!
ANNA PEYRES DINNIES.
Valdimir Desparde arose, bowed slightly and said:
“Squire Gatton, I have really scarcely given this accusation any serious
attention. Terrible as it certainly is, it seems much too preposterous,
as applied to myself, to be entertained for a single instant.
“I know nothing whatever of this unfortunate girl whom I am accused of
having murdered, never having seen her face, to my knowledge, in the
whole course of my life.
“I have been in the United States for the last seven months and returned
to England only yesterday. I had best perhaps give you a succinct
account of my movements from the hour of my landing.
“I landed by the steamer _Colorado_, from New York on the third, at
Southampton, at five o’clock yesterday morning. Immediately after
leaving the ship I went to a telegraph office and dispatched a telegram
to my cousin here to send some vehicle to meet me at the Miston Station
at seven this morning.”
“Which I duly received and acted upon. Little time left for him to plan
and execute a midnight murder, I should judge!” put in Lord Beaudevere.
“I did not lose more than an hour in the town; but after a hasty
breakfast at the counter of the refreshment-room, I took the six-seven
train of the London and Southwestern Railway with a through ticket in
conjunction with the Northwestern, and came straight on until I reached
the Grand Junction.”
“Where that _other_ fellow, the real assassin—perdition catch him—jumped
off the _other_ train and made his escape, leaving his trap empty for
Desparde to run his unlucky head into?” exclaimed the baron.
“I think my cousin, Lord Beaudevere, is quite right in his theory of
this case, Squire Gatton and gentlemen. At any rate I got out of my
train at the Grand Junction, and in crossing over to the other one I
certainly met a party dressed exactly as I was dressed, in the same sort
of long, black ulster, down to his heels, with its high collar turned up
to his temples, and the same sort of black, slouched hat pulled down
over his eyes. Casting the eyes of my memory back upon this man, I see
that he was of the same height and figure as myself, and might, by a
casual observer, have been mistaken for me. He was hurrying towards the
Southampton down train that was just in.”
“_That_ was the very fellow. He had done his dastardly deed, and was
just making his escape to the seaport to get out of the country!”
triumphantly exclaimed the baron.
His theory seemed to strike the magistrate and his assistants favorably.
They looked at each other and nodded.
“Go on, if you please, Mr. Desparde,” said Squire Gatton.
“As I approached the Northwestern train I perceived a guard, whom I knew
by sight—Thomas Potter, who has testified against me in this
case—standing by the door of the middle compartment in a first-class
carriage, precisely as though he were waiting for some one to come up—”
“Waiting for that other fellow, of course,” put in the irrepressible
baron.
“He hailed me somewhat familiarly, as though he expected me, or some one
whom he took me to be.”
“Of course he did! took you to be the other fellow, confound them both!”
interpolated the excited baron.
“What did he say to you? How did he address you—by your own or any other
name?” inquired Mr. Gatton.
Valdimir Desparde reflected for a moment, and then answered, though with
some hesitation still:
“N-no, I think he used no name. He hailed me, I think, with ‘All right,
sir! Here you are! Look sharp, sir, if you please! She’s off,’ or words
to that effect. I, thinking the man had either recognized me, as I
certainly had him, or else that he was taking unusual pains to secure a
passenger his seat, hastened my steps and got into the compartment. Then
the guard added these words—very significant to me, in the light of what
has happened since, though at the moment I supposed he merely referred
to his catching sight of me coming towards the train, recognizing me as
an old acquaintance and being anxious to secure me a seat—he said, in
fact, this: ‘All right _now_! I waited here for you; but I really was
afraid you would miss it this time!’ And he shut the door and the train
started.”
“Of course, he waited for the other fellow who had committed the crime
in that compartment and run away! He took you for the other fellow. It
is all as clear as daylight! Or else—or else—and by my life, the point
is worth considering—he was in complicity with the other, and caught you
in this trap to favor his escape!” exclaimed the baron.
All within hearing were quite startled by this new view of the case.
The magistrate and his colleague whispered together.
Things were beginning to look shady for the principal witness in this
case.
In fact, Valdimir Desparde’s clear and simple story of his own movements
since he arrived in England, together with the running comments of Lord
Beaudevere, had made an impression on all present, which was much
deepened by the last weighty suggestion of the baron.
Squire Gatton and Burke of Burkehurst continued to converse for a few
minutes longer, though in so low a tone that no one could hear the
purport of their conversation.
At length, however, the magistrate straightened himself up and said:
“Will Mr. Desparde now proceed with his narrative?”
Valdimir Desparde bowed and continued:
“I come now to the most important part of my story. I entered the
compartment, as I said, just as the train started. I observed that the
light of the lamp was turned down. At first, in the gloom, I saw no one,
and naturally supposed that I was alone. I reached to put up the light,
and, in doing so, heard something drop. I stooped to see what had
fallen, but could not find anything; raised myself again to put up the
light, but was arrested by the sight of a woman, wrapped closely up in a
dark cloak, and reclining in a corner. Her face was turned sidewise, and
covered with a thick, black vail. She was apparently sound asleep.
Thinking that this woman had turned down the light to favor her own
slumbers, I left it as she had put it, and took my seat on the opposite
side in the corner diagonally across from her own, so that I might not
in any way disturb her repose. I forebore to search for what I had
dropped, putting off doing so for a more convenient time, when my
unknown companion should be awake. Then I forgot all about it, having
more important subjects to think of. Afterwards I missed my gold
pencil-case, which had become in some way detached from my chain. This
would seem a trifling detail, Squire, but that it accounts for my
pencil-case being found in that compartment.”
“Of course it does. Mark that, gentlemen,” observed the baron.
“The woman continued to sleep, and I, never suspecting that hers was the
sleep of death, lapsed into reverie until the train stopped at one of
the principal stations, where the guard came to the door and civilly
offered his services to fetch anything from the refreshment-room that I
wished. I told him that I wanted nothing. He then asked if the
‘lady’—meaning my fellow-passenger—would like anything. I replied that
she appeared to be asleep.”
“While the guard yet stood at the door of the compartment a party came
up to get on the train, and asked if it was engaged. He answered ‘Yes,’
shut the door quickly, and conveyed them off to some other carriage
before I could call after him to tell him that there was a plenty of
room inside, and the train started again.”
“That infernal scoundrel had entrapped _you_ into that compartment, and
he meant to take every precaution to fix the murder on you in order to
secure the escape of the real assassin! Squire, I hope you will issue a
warrant for the arrest of Thomas Potter!” exclaimed Lord Beaudevere,
growing more excited.
“I will consider your counsel, my lord, and, in the meantime, we would
like to hear Mr. Desparde go on with his statement,” said the
magistrate, by way of a gentle reminder that the accused man had the
floor for the present.
“The woman slept on and I relapsed into thought. The train stopped at
several more stations. I got out at one or two to stretch my limbs, but
my companion never awoke, nor ever changed her position.”
Here Squire Burke of Burkehurst leaned forward and opened his mouth for
about the first time during the examination, and said:
“Excuse me, Mr. Desparde, but by this time did not the long and profound
sleep of this woman, who never even once changed her position, as even
the soundest sleepers are wont to do, appear unnatural to you, so as to
excite some suspicion in your mind?”
“At last it did; but it was a suspicion of alcohol or opium
intoxication, or stupor, certainly no suspicion of murder, or even of
suicide,” replied Valdimir Desparde.
“That is all. Thanks. Proceed, if you please, sir,” said Squire Burke,
sinking back into his easy-chair and easier silence.
Valdimir Desparde resumed:
“This state of things continued in the compartment until daylight, by
which time the train had reached the Miston Branch Station, where I got
off to take the Miston Special. For the first time since I had taken the
train I missed seeing my too attentive guard, who must have been held in
temporary thralldom by some exacting passenger, or he would certainly
have been on hand. I left the motionless woman in the compartment,
wondering carelessly how long she would sleep, and I hurried across the
platforms to take the other train, which I secured just as it steamed
out of the station. I came on to Miston without adventure of any sort,
and was met at that place by my cousin here.”
“Yes, sir; and he looked as little like a man who had just committed a
midnight murder as it is possible to conceive,” added Lord Beaudevere.
“That is all I have to tell—all, indeed, that there is to be told of my
movements since my return from abroad. And now I would like to have
Thomas Potter, the railway guard, recalled and confronted with me here,”
concluded Mr. Desparde, as he bowed and resumed his seat.
“Officer, call Thomas Potter,” said the magistrate.
“THOMAS POTTER!” called the bailiff, in a stentorian voice.
The railway guard, who had been in the “justice room” all the time, and
had heard every word that had been said in his disfavor, now came
forward, not a whit discomposed by the suspicion that had been cast upon
him. He was an honest and a fearless man, as times go. At least he had
nothing to do with the assassination in the railway carriage, and the
consciousness that he had not supported him.
The guard stoutly adhered to the testimony already given that he
recognized the companion of the murdered woman to be Valdimir Desparde.
No cross-examination could shake him.
In the face of the evidence so far given, Judge Gatton was obliged, much
against his wish, to commit the unfortunate young man for trial at the
assizes, without bail.
Then our hero was hurried off to a cell. Lord Beaudevere followed,
explained that as his young relative was only waiting trial, he wished
to have him made as comfortable as possible, and that they were willing
to pay for all lawful accommodations.
The warden replied that he would be glad to talk to his lordship on the
subject next morning, but that now the hour had come when the prison
doors were about to be closed for the night.
Lord Beaudevere bowed to the inevitable, wrung his young cousin’s hand,
and departed.
[Illustration: [Fleuron]]